


Avenging Innocence

by Toshua



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 16:02:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshua/pseuds/Toshua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of a rape case has several victims.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Avenging Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> This was orignally written for the slash virtual season that never got off the ground. In this version, TSbyBS, never happened. Blair got his Phd., and is working as a consultant to the PD, and teaching part-time. This would be considered pre-slash. 
> 
> Originally posted to 852 Prospect Place, 2000.

Jim was angry. He was more than angry. Anger had been surpassed on the scale hours ago and he was on his way to volcanic. He was so angry that he'd gone down to the outside range, checked out a M-60 and a belt of ammo and had spent the last hour on his stomach, heavy rifle braced against his shoulder as he demolished a target over 100 yards away, totally focused on taking the silhouette down to toothpicks, a bullet at a time. 

Joel Taggart, once Captain of the bomb squad, now detective assigned to Major Crimes, watched the camouflaged draped figure with concern. He'd been brushing up on his handgun skills when Jim had stormed by him, heavily armed and completely oblivious to anyone around him. The large black man had watched as Jim sat up a target, complete with a heavy-round backdrop and proceeded to shred his way through the multi-layered plywood, splinters of wood flying through the air as each heavy round found its mark. He finally pulled off the protective muffs and went inside to the range office and punched in a number on the desk phone. 

"Banks." 

"Joel. Simon, what's going on with Ellison?" 

A heavy sigh whispered across the phone lines. "Where is he?" 

"I'm down at the outdoor range. He's tearing up a massive target. Looks like he plans to keep at it for awhile. What's up?" 

"I'll explain later. I'm sending Sandburg down. Make sure they don't come to blows, okay?" 

"Can do." Joel hung up and picked up a pair of binoculars and watched the big detective. Jim was prone on the ground, baseball cap turned backwards, totally focused on the big rifle in his hands. He almost disappeared into the grass and dirt, his clothes blending expertly with the colors around him. The plywood target was full of massive holes, and each bullet disintegrated another chunk of wood, destroying the upper third of the target. Joel shook his head. Usually Jim took his anger out on a punching bag or some poor sparring partner. This was the first time in the five years that he'd known the man he'd seen Jim pick up a piece of artillery. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Jim's whirlwind of a partner as Sandburg blew through the doorway and glanced out the plate glass window. Silently, Taggart handed him the binoculars and Blair raised them to his eyes, studying the prone figure, watching the empty shells fly into the air, two at a time. He sighed and handed Joel the binoculars. 

"What happened?" 

"You remember that child rapist case from a month ago? The one where Jim found the kids in the basement bathroom?" 

Joel shuddered. He remembered all too well. Five children that had been aged 9-12, beaten, starved, raped, and locked in a bathroom for who knows how long. The oldest child, a little girl, ended up pregnant. The fetus aborted at the hospital, much to the relief of the parents, but the trauma had landed the little girl in a long time care facility. Joel nodded. 

"The judge just threw out most of the charges, and the guy is getting off with 3 years of jail time, 5 years of probation and a $20,000 fine." 

"What was Jim's reaction?" Joel knew what his would have been and the ex-Army captain was thousands of times more incendiary. 

"Simon says he went down to the gym for awhile, then he lost track of him." Sandburg nodded toward the target. "I don't know which he's seeing, the judge or the rapist. Probably both." 

"What are you going to do?" 

Blair shrugged. "Stay with him. Let him know that someone is there to listen when he calms down enough to talk. You can't believe how badly this case hit him. He was sitting in the courtroom watching the trial; then testifying how he found the kids. It was as bad as reliving it. He came home every night, changed into gym clothes then ran for miles. After the second night, I started tailing him with the car, so when he ran himself into exhaustion, I could bring him home. I was there when the judge handed down the sentence. Jim's eyes just went blank. Then he got up and walked out, ignoring everybody and everything." 

Joel nodded, remembering other scenes when Jim was angry. "I've seen his eyes go ice before. I would not have liked to have been that judge." Joel shook his head. "If you need any help..." 

"Thanks, man." Blair grabbed a pair of protective muffs then started across the range toward his Sentinel. As he walked, he worked out a strategy to approach his partner. Jim was easy to rile, and his temper was famous throughout the police department. He was also renowned for keeping it under control. His jaw-clinching act was so common place that everyone knew what it telegraphed and went in the other direction when the muscle jumped. But the price of his control was more then dental bills at times. Like now. He was so full of rage that he had to bleed it off somehow, and all of his standard physical activities weren't working. Blair mentally ran through a list of meditation techniques and a selection of music available to him. Maybe if he could get Jim home, he could get his partner to change his focus. 

Carefully, Blair settled cross-legged on the ground to the side and slightly behind his partner's prone figure. The man ignored his presence, intent on pouring hot metal into the wood target, until there was nothing left of the upper half of the silhouette. Blair did not flinch at the muffled sound or at the violence that the bullets were expending on the wood. Finally, the ammo belt on the ground fed through the chamber and the large firearm was silent. Jim dropped his head to the ground, breathing hard. 

Blair pulled the muffs off his ears and leaned forward, placing a comforting hand on the rock hard shoulder. He kept it there for a long time, then started kneading up and down on the muscle, finally working up to the strong neck and massaging the corded muscles which radiated up the base of the cop's skull. 

"Who called you?" Jim's voice was muffled into the ground. 

"Simon. He was afraid you might hurt yourself, or someone else." Blair nodded toward the target. "Glad to see you took your anger out on something inanimate." 

"You use your techniques for anger management, I use mine, Chief." Jim rolled over on his back, finally looking up at his partner. "How are you taking it?" 

"Better than you, obviously. I just want to throw up." 

Jim sat up, rubbed his face, and turned his baseball cap around. "I can't believe the sentencing. What was that judge thinking?" 

Blair had no answer, so he just waited. Finally, Jim turned to the weapon and opened the ammo chamber, freeing the end of the empty belt and letting it cool. Then he proceeded to break it down, handing Sandburg the tripod legs and the empty belt. Both men climbed to their feet and walked back to the firing range office. 

"What are you going to do?" 

Jim glanced at his smaller partner, mind swirling with possibilities. He read the anticipation in Blair's glance. Jim was a cop, and a good one, but underneath the civilized shell was a warrior that didn't take kindly to the justice system at times. Not that he would ever take the law in his hands, but he did react badly to some things he couldn't fix. Jim let his partner see the fierce warrior behind his eyes for a moment. Blair nodded at the silent decision. 

"Thought I'd make a couple of phone calls to a couple of snitches. Child rapists don't rate very high on the scale at the local prison. In fact, I think they rate somewhere below child murderers. I'm certain he'll get a warm welcome when he enters his new home." 

Blair opened the door for his partner, grinning. "You're vicious, man, you know that?" 

Jim handed the machine gun over to the armory staff, took the tripod from his partner, smiling grimly. "Hey, you know how us tribal guardians are, we hand out justice as we see fit." 

The comment was so off the cuff that Blair blinked. It was the first time Jim had admitted to being a guardian of his tribe, sentinel or otherwise. Or hinted that his dark side was capable of dealing with a situation when he didn't agree with the courts. Blair had always known this; you couldn't survive in the world Jim had lived in without having a dark side that occasionally peeked out and sampled the light of day. It just surprised the younger man that Jim would admit it out loud. 

Jim finished signing in the weapon, then led his guide from the armory, one arm draped casually across the smaller man's shoulders. He was in a better mood than earlier, but his heart still hurt for the children and their families. But that was no reason to take it out on his partner so he deliberately tried to put on a relaxed face and manner. 

"How about we pick up a pizza and a movie on the way home?" 

"Sure, man. What do you have in mind?" Blair glanced at his friend, surprised at the light tone in Jim's words. The jaw had relaxed fractionally and the blue eyes were no longer blue lasers. 

"Don't know. How about the new Zorro?" 

"A vigilante handing out his own brand of justice in a society where the law is corrupt? Sounds like it's right up your alley. Where's your mask and sword?" 

Jim laughed. "Must have left it in the truck." 

* * *

Jim heard the paper hit the loft door with a 'thud'. "One of these days," he mumbled as he crawled from his warm nest of comforter and sheets. He'd only been asleep a couple of hours. The stakeout the night before had resulted in a good bust and one more illegal arms dealer was off the street. He pulled on his robe as he stumbled down the stairs and opened the door, scooping up the morning paper with a yawn. Rubbing his eyes he headed for the coffeepot, pushing it to brew as he walked by. He dropped the paper on the dining room table as he headed for the bathroom. The coffee was finished by the time he made it back to the kitchen and he settled down at the table with a full mug and a paper that hadn't been destroyed by his roommate. Unfolding it, he stared at the blaring headline. 

"JUDGE IN CHILD RAPE CASE STEPS DOWN OVER FUROR IN SENTENCING!" 

Jim looked at the photo snapped as the judge tried to leave his office, one hand with a file folder trying to shield his face. Had it only been three days since he'd sat in that courtroom? What had happened that brought down a man that had failed children tormented so violently? 

Jim skimmed the article, reading quickly how a local child protection group had reacted quickly to the sentencing and immediately starting putting pressure on the judge. 

The article went on about how the judge's family was harassed and there'd been numerous threatening phone calls. Plus the major's office had been over-whelmed with complaints, even the Governor had been called. 

"Couldn't happen to a nicer man," Jim mumbled to himself as he finished his coffee. He heard Blair moving around his room, finally stumbling through the French doors with a muttered "Morning" as he staggered into the bathroom. The big detective poured Blair coffee and started on the sports section of the paper. Who were the Jags trading for now? 

Blair appeared at the table, almost dressed, his sweatpants sagging around his hips and a flannel shirt hanging open. He picked up the coffee and nodded his thanks. His eyes caught the headlines and he smiled. 

"Couldn't happen to a nicer guy." 

"That's what I said." Jim finished the sports section and headed up stairs to dress. "We don't have to be in until later. I've got some errands to run. Any place you need to go?" 

Blair shook his head. "I need to finish that article I'm writing and catch up on my e-mail. You go ahead." 

Jim was halfway dressed when the phone rang and Blair picked it up. He turned his hearing up to catch the conversation. 

"Tell Jim I'm sorry about this morning but I need him at the station. You too." 

"What's up, Simon?" Blair nodded at Jim as he looked over the railing from the upstairs bedroom. 

"There's been a murder. The judge from the child rapist case. The media are all over the place. I've cordoned off the crime scene and I need you guys over there to take a look." 

"Get the address, Chief." Jim called from his closet, replacing his worn and comfortable tee shirt with a light sweater. So much for errands. 

Jim trotted down the stairs, dressed for work and securing his gun behind his back. Blair was pulling on a flannel shirt and grabbing his backpack. 

"Right behind you, Jim." 

Jim nodded and held the door open as his partner ducked under his arm. "How'd Simon sound?" Jim asked as they pounded down the stairs. 

"Harried. Annoyed. There was a lot of background noise. Sounded like lots of people talking." 

Jim held open the outside door and they headed for the truck. 

"Couldn't filter out the sound, huh, Chief?" Jim grinned as he pulled the truck into traffic. 

Blair rolled his eyes. "I'm not the Sentinel, Jim." 

Jim laughed. "But you're a trained observer, Chief. And now you're getting paid to consult -" 

"I'll admit that helping you with your senses has made me more aware of mine, but it doesn't give me the advantage your senses give you." Silence reigned in the truck for a moment. Blair finally turned away from staring out the side window. "So what did you hear that I didn't?" 

Jim shrugged his shoulders. "The mayor, some reporters, the DA." 

"No wonder Simon sounded harried. Wonder what political fire Simon wants us to put out?" 

* * *

Jim drove to the expensive house on the East Side of town and negotiated through the police cars parked in and around the cul-de-sac. Blair was shaking his head at the size and value of some of the properties they were cruising past. 

"We are definitely in the wrong business, Jim." 

Jim shrugged his shoulders as a uniform pointed him to a spot to park. "But could you sleep at night once you got here, Chief." 

"Good question." 

Both men got out of the truck and headed for the front of the house. The body had already been removed and there was a chalk outline on the ground next to the open driver's door of a Mercedes. A uniform stood there, a notebook in hand. Without preamble he started briefing Ellison on what they had found so far. 

"Preliminary has the Judge entering his car when a rifle shot caught him in the back. One entry, one exit wound. The other neighbors were too far away to hear the shot, or weren't paying attention. The wife was standing at the front door when her husband was hit and was driven back in by another shot that hit the steps. She dialed 911. She then tried reaching her husband and was successful. But it was already too late. The wife is at the hospital, under sedation. 

"Any of the neighbors report anything suspicious, car, person, anything?" 

"Nothing so far." The uniformed man closed his notebook and tucked it into a pocket. "We were told to hold the crime scene until you got here, except to remove the body." 

"Thank you," Jim glanced at the nametag. "Mallory. Appreciate the information." 

The uniform moved away and Jim knelt next to the car, studying the blood pattern on the concrete and the open door of the car. He pointed at the inside of the car door. "See it, Chief?" 

Blair knelt beside him. "I see a hole in the door panel." 

"Let me have the tweezers out of your knife." Jim pulled on a pair of gloves and began to dig into the torn cloth, successfully coming up with a bullet. Blair held open a ziplock bag and Jim dropped the slug into it. "If we can find the one that hit the stairs, we might get lucky with a print." 

Blair nodded. Jim looked at the car awhile longer, then turned; angling his head as he mentally drew the trajectory the bullet probably took. His eyes narrowed as he studied a tree on the other side of the fence from the house. 

"Come on." Jim pulled his partner to his feet and jogged over to the fence, Blair two steps behind him. 

The fence acted as a sound barrier and a property line marker between the cul-de-sac and the next street. The six-foot cedar was freshly coated with stain and sturdy. Jim looked at the large oak that towered over the fence. He pointed at a limb. 

"Think you can climb it with a boost?" Jim knelt down, locked his hands together as a stirrup for Blair's sneaker covered foot. 

"You just love to make me climb things don't you." Blair accepted the boost, braced one hand on the top of the fence, the other on the tree limb and pulled himself up. "Now that I'm up here, what am I looking for?" 

"There's a blonde hair, about five feet from the fence. Look for signs of someone climbing the limb and sliding out on it. Like torn bark, broken twigs, snagged fabric, that sort of thing. Then I want you to slide out and bend that limb down so I can reach the hair." 

Blair glared at his partner but did as he was told, carefully scanning the limb that was a little larger than his forearm. He looked at Jim and nodded then carefully pulled an evidence bag and a pair of gloves out of his back pocket. His balance was precarious as he reached for something out of Jim's line of sight, carefully digging at it with his pocketknife. 

"What do you have?" 

"Looks like some fibers, maybe from a jacket. There's also several scrape marks. Like someone was pushing with their feet as they balanced themselves." 

Jim nodded. "Don't go any further. I want forensics to get some photos. From where you're sitting, can you see the car?" 

"Barely. Direct vision is blocked with leaves. You'd have to go further out on the limb to see it clearly." Blair started turning around, making get out of the way motions as he jumped clear of the fence. 

"Wouldn't you say a sniper could have a pretty good spot from that tree? The leaves would hide you from the casual viewer, and you have a great get away avenue, just leave a car parked on the other street and come down the tree on that side of the fence instead of this side." Jim's hands were accenting his suspicions as he talked, illustrating his thoughts. 

Blair brushed off his hands, then carefully labeled the evidence bag before tucking it back in a pocket, with the gloves. "Jim, it would have to be a fairly small person. That limb would hold my weight, but not much more. Maybe someone 170, no more." They started back to the house. 

"So, it could be a small man, or a large woman." 

"Or the scuff marks, fibers and hair are from a kid playing on the tree." 

"If the scuff marks are fresh, the bark will still be damp and the tree will be oozing sap. That could give us a time line for when our mystery tree climber was in the tree." 

"And if that jives with the murder of the judge, we have a sniper on our hands." 

Jim nodded, called Serena over and handed her the evidence bags, then pointed out the tree, the limb and told her about the blonde hair caught in the leaves. Serena nodded, a small smile on her face. "You know Jim, whenever you and your partner get tired of playing detective, I can put you to work in forensics." 

"Thanks but no thanks, Serena. You know I can't handle the more gruesome side of your job." Blair patted Serena on the arm as they went past. Serena was already on the phone, telling someone in her staff to bring a ladder over. 

The ride to the precinct was silent. Blair was looking out the truck window, his mind a thousand miles away. Jim was pondering the murder, cataloguing a list of possible suspects and trying to put himself in the sniper's mind. 

"Chief -" 

"Jim-" 

They looked at each other and laughed for a moment. Sometimes the link between them appeared in the strangest way. The truck rolled to a stop at a light and Jim voiced his thoughts. 

"Considering the judge's last decision, who killed him?" 

"A parent of one of the children," was Blair's immediate reply. 

Jim nodded and accelerated as the light turned green. "Good answer. Now, which one?" 

Blair shook his head. "If we count all the parents, that gives us 10 suspects. If we count family members, the suspect list just went through the roof." 

Jim turned the truck into the parking garage. "What about that citizen action group who were harassing the judge? They sent him threatening mail, phone calls. Wouldn't they be a suspect?" 

Blair squirmed a little in his seat. "I suppose", he hedged, not quite meeting Jim's eyes. 

Jim glanced at his fidgeting partner. "Something on your mind, Sandburg?" 

"I'll let you know, Jim." 

* * *

"What have you got?" Simon looked up at Jim and Blair's entrance into his office. The police captain took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Tell me this is an open and shut case." 

"That depends." Blair sat down in his usual seat, placing a file folder on the captain's desk. 

"On what?" Simon glared at the youngest member of Major Crimes. 

"On whether or not one of the parents of the raped kids admits to shooting the judge." 

"Is that what you think?" The police captain looked from one man to the other. 

Jim and Blair exchanged glances. "That's the simplest explanation." Jim murmured. 

"But not the one you like." 

Both men were silent. Simon got up and closed the door to his office and leaned against it. "Okay, in plain English, what do you have?" 

"Two shots, probably fired from a tree at the edge of the cul-de-sac while Judge Harris was getting in his car. Forensics has some hair samples, two bullets, some cloth fibers, a couple of scrapes on the tree and that's about it." 

"Suspects?" 

The detective and consultant remained silent. 

Simon glared at the two men. "Besides the obvious ones?" 

"Every relative, every friend of the family, the local child protection agencies -" Blair was counting off the list on his fingers. 

"Not to mention any yahoo thinking he will make a name for himself." Jim finished the list. 

"This list doesn't make me happy, gentlemen. So what are you doing to pare this list down to a feasible number." 

"Brown and Rafe are putting together a list of all the family members. Then they'll see who's in town. We'll take that list, start checking to see who has an alibi for the time of death." 

Simon nodded as Jim finished. "What about the agencies you're talking about?" 

"I made a couple of calls." Blair looked at his notes. "So far I've reached a lot of voice mails and a couple of 'if you want to talk to us, make an appointment with our attorney' statements." 

"How long before Forensics are done?" 

"Couple of hours." Jim answered his captain, staring out the window, seeing the new windowpane again. His eyes closed, trying to fight the memory. 

"Anything else you can tell me that Forensics can't?" 

Jim shook his head. "I'm hoping Serena will find some gun powder on the leaves of the tree limb. That will prove the shot came from the tree." 

"Then we can further narrow down the suspect list by using the weight factor on the tree limb." 

Simon shook his head. "I don't get it." 

"That tree limb couldn't hold more than 150-160 pounds." Blair illustrated the size of the tree limb by holding up his arm. 

Simon and Jim exchanged quick glances, nodding at Blair. Jim smiled, knowing the captain was happy the younger man was finally beginning to act like the enthusiastic person they knew. 

"Your next step?" Simon asked the consultant 

"Start running down the suspect list." Blair climbed out of his chair, headed for the door, Jim right behind him. 

"As soon as Serena's done, we'll have a better idea of what we need to do." Jim stopped at the door, Blair next to him. "How are you holding up? I know the Mayor was on your case earlier." 

Simon put his glasses back on. "She expects an hourly update." 

"That's not very realistic." Blair glanced between Jim and Simon. 

"Who says politicians have to be realistic?" 

Neither man had anything to say, so they left Simon's office. 

* * *

Blair was trying to stir dinner and study the lists of suspects as he worked. Jim had the report on the forensic evidence spread out on the dining room table. He picked up a page and brought it to the counter. Leaning against the counter, grabbed a slice of cucumber out of the salad bowl, tossing it in his mouth. 

"Serena did good, Chief. She found blowback on several leaves. So the tree was definitely where the sniper was firing from. Too bad there weren't any prints on the bullets." 

"That eliminates about half of the suspects, especially the men." 

"And the blonde hair was bleached. How many men do you know who bleach their hair?" 

"So we're definitely looking for a woman." 

"Seems like it." Jim carried the bowl of salad to the table. Blair followed with the pot of stew and a plate of sliced warm bread. Together they cleared off the stack of papers and got plates and silverware. 

Blair looked at his bowl of stew, back at Jim. "You know, we might not have so many suspects if I hadn't sent so many e-mails to a couple of newsgroups I subscribe to." 

Jim chewed on his bread, watching Sandburg's face as he talked. "What are you trying to say, Chief?" 

Blair tore up his bread and dropped the pieces into his bowl. "After the sentencing I sent out a few e-mails to some of the citizen groups, giving them the results of the verdict." He watched Jim's face. "I didn't tell them anything that wasn't in the papers and I didn't give them my name, just signed them 'a concerned citizen'." 

Jim went back to eating. After a few moments he met the troubled sapphire blue eyes. "You're not responsible for Harris' murder, Chief. I guarantee there were lots of emails and phone calls. Just look at the Mayor's and Governor's office, they got calls. You didn't call them or email them. No, yours was just a single voice in the wilderness." 

The tension seemed to flow out of Blair and he smiled a little bit. "Thanks Jim." 

"This doesn't mean you can answer a reporter's question with your personal opinion, Chief." 

"I know that, Jim. How many years have we worked together?" Blair looked exasperated at his partner. "I'm not a rookie at this police stuff, you know." 

Jim's eyes crinkled at his smaller companion. "Just checking." 

* * *

Morning found Jim pouring over his notes with Blair pouring over Rafe's and Brown's. Blair held up one sheet so Jim could see it. 

"Three bleached blondes but none small enough to be able to climb out on the tree limb and they have alibis. The smallest female relative in the Cascade area is a cousin, age 6 and she's a brunette." Blair tossed that sheet on the desk and rubbed his hands through his pulled back curls. "Looking at the men, we've got nobody." 

Jim nodded, holding up a report on the bullets found at the murder scene. "Good old fashioned .30-30, hunting rifle." He tossed the sheet on top of Sandburg's. "There's probably a couple thousand of them in the city, none of them registered. And that's not counting the ones brought into the city each year from other parts of the country." 

"So where does that leave us?" Blair pulled off his glasses, rubbed them on a shirtsleeve. 

"We start looking at these citizen groups, people Harris locked up who've just gotten out, old grudges. His murder might not be connected to the rapist case at all. The sniper saw the furor over the sentencing and took advantage of the diversion while he took out the judge." 

Blair's head came up and he met the crystal blue eyes. "He? You said 'he' Jim. Do you know something I don't know?" 

Jim looked at his partner; he knew Blair was asking the question to the Sentinel who occasionally saw ghosts and had visions. "Figure of speech, Chief. Our best option is still to look for a woman. However," his eyes grew distant as his thoughts played out. "I wouldn't overlook a small man with bleached hair, or even wearing a woman's wig made with real hair." 

Blair watched the unfocused eyes as the detective talked. "Jim, what are you seeing?" He whispered, after quickly glancing around. 

Jim blinked, then shook his head. "Nothing, Chief. Just lost in thought." 

"You would tell me, wouldn't you, Jim? If you had a vision-" Blair's voice trailed off, not wanting to bring up the rogue sentinel who had almost destroyed both of them. 

Jim nodded and he read the worry in his partner's eyes. "I promise, Chief, if I have any visions, you'll be the first to know." 

They were interrupted when Captain Banks opened the door to Major Crime and was preceded by the Mayor. She swept through the bullpen until she paused at Ellison's desk. 

"Detective Ellison, Dr. Sandburg. I understand you have been assigned the Harris case?" 

Jim stood up, hands politely behind his back in an almost parade rest stance. "Yes, Madam Mayor." 

"Please tell me it's not one of the families of the raped girls? I don't think I could stand it." 

"We haven't ruled out anyone yet, Mayor." 

"Detective Ellison, if it is one of the parents, please let me know first before you arrest him or her. I want to have my press statement ready." Then she breezed into Banks' office. 

Simon shook his head and mouthed "Sorry, guys." Before following her and closing the door. 

Jim cocked his head for a moment, then began gathering up file folders, nodding towards the door. "Let's go. She wants a full rundown of the suspects." 

Blair grabbed both their jackets and held the door open for his partner. They met Rafe and Brown in the hall and turned them around, pushing them back toward the elevator. 

"What?" Rafe asked. 

"The Mayor is in Simon's office, wanting details. Do you want to be there?" Blair asked as he punched the down button. 

"Nope, absolutely not." Henri nodded and pushed his partner into the opening door. "How about some coffee at that little expresso stand down the street?" The door closed on the group of detectives. 

* * *

Jim explained the latest theory about the murder and what they were going to do next. Rafe groaned when he heard the list of people they were going to have to research. He looked into his latte. 

"Whose idea was this? Do you know how many people that judge put away?" 

Blair nodded. "Two hundred twenty-five as of last week. Out of that number, thirty-seven got paroled this month. Out of that number, twenty are in Cascade. As soon as we get the records, I hope we can eliminate most of them because of size." 

"I thought we were looking for a woman?" Brown popped a coffee bean into his mouth and crunched it with a smile. 

"Or a small man." Jim added. 

"With blonde bleached hair." Blair continued. 

"Unless he's wearing a blonde wig." Jim sipped his coffee. 

"Made out of human hair." Blair finished. 

Rafe and Brown watched the dialog bouncing between them. Finally Henri held up a hand. 

"You guys are worse than a tennis match. How long did it take you two to perfect that technique?" 

Jim and Blair exchanged glances and answered together. "What technique?" They cracked up at the expressions on the other detectives' faces. 

"Think they have enough to think about?" Blair nudged Jim. 

"Probably. Think the coast is clear to go back to the office?" Jim tossed his coffee cup into the trashcan. 

"Hope so. We'd better bring Simon a coffee or he won't forgive us anytime soon." Blair turned to the smiling man behind the cart and ordered a hazelnut double expresso for the boss. Then the four men headed back to the police station. 

* * *

Simon looked up when his four men entered the bullpen. He left his office and stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "It was very nice that my detectives left me with the Mayor without telling me." He glared at all of them. 

Blair stepped out from behind Jim. "We brought you a coffee, Simon." He extended the peace offering. 

"Give me that." Simon growled at the younger man, then inhaled the fragrance when he opened the lid. His face lit with a smile. "Hazelnut." He took a sip and smiled bigger. "Thank you gentlemen." He turned and started to enter the office again, then stopped and looked back. "But you're not forgiven." He closed the door on his staff. 

The slam echoed through the bullpen and each man looked at the other. "At least we didn't have to entertain the Mayor," Henri commented, raising a chuckle from the others. Each man went to their desks and picked up whatever file was on top. A clerk from records had deposited the file folders of the twenty parolees thought to be in Cascade. 

Silence reigned in Major Crimes for a couple of hours as each man went through the files. Blair finally pulled off his glasses and tossed them on the desk. Jim looked up at him, eyebrows on the rise. 

"No luck in my stack." 

"Or mine." Brown called from his desk. Rafe got up, snagged Brown's and his pile of folders, dropped them all on Jim's desk, shaking his head. 

Jim held up one folder. "This one is close. Who wants it?" 

Rafe took the file, flipped it open. "Regina Reynolds, paroled last month after serving 8 months for assault. 5'3", 110 pounds, brunette." He glanced at the photo and nodded. "Bleached blonde." He turned the pages of the file. "How does someone 110 pounds assault someone? Oh, baseball bat to boyfriend's knees. That's assault all right." He closed the file. "Come on H, let's visit a parole officer, then I'll take you to lunch." 

Jim looked at his watch. "Guess what, Chief, it is that time of day. Who's buying?" 

Blair tossed Jim a coin. "Tails." He reached for his jacket. 

Jim flipped the coin and caught it. "Tails it is." 

"Good. You buy." Blair pulled open the door, leaving Jim standing with his mouth open. 

"Hey, wait a minute, Chief. You called tails." Jim grabbed his jacket, raced to catch his partner. 

"But I didn't say what tails meant, Jim. I could have said, 'tails, I'll buy. But I didn't. I just said tails. Which makes it my choice." Blair stood in front of the elevator door, watching Jim's face as the detective followed the teacher's logic to the end. 

Jim pulled his jacket on and thumped Blair on the head at the same time. "One of these days, Chief, I'm going to know better than to play your games." 

"Hasn't happened in four years, Jim. Why should you start now?" 

The elevator closed on the beginnings of the argument. 

* * *

After lunch, Jim dropped Blair off at the loft and went back to the station. Sandburg had an afternoon lecture and needed his car. The detective sat in traffic, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the rock and roll on the radio station, idly watching the city flow around him. He watched the cars in the lanes on either side of him, and the ones facing him at an intersection. Would they react differently to the truck if they knew it contained a cop? Would their hearts race in fear or slow down because help was close in case of an accident? Jim smiled to himself. He needed to tell Sandburg his ways of thinking were rubbing off on his partner. 

At the station he met up with Rafe in the bullpen and was excitedly informed Reynolds had been brought in for questioning. Brown was with her and Simon was behind the observation room's mirror. 

Jim slapped him on the back with thanks and joined Simon to watch as Rafe and Henri talked to the woman. 

Regina Reynolds was a tiny woman as she sat in a plain metal chair in front of a plain metal table. A cigarette dripped from her almost black painted lips, which matched her black jeans and red and black shirt. Her long fingernails matched the rest of her outfit and tapped against the tabletop. 

Simon looked at Jim as the detective entered the small room and stopped to study the woman through the one way mirror. "Jim, where's your partner?" 

"School. He's teaching this afternoon." 

"Damn. I hoped he could explain the fascination with the death look." Jim shrugged. Blair mentioned it a few weeks ago. Something about vampires, I think." 

Simon grimaced. "As if we need another fad to catch weirdoes imaginations." The police captain and detective turned their attention to the questioning going on in the interrogation room. 

Henri was asking the general questions: id, location, did she know Judge Harris; did she know he was dead; where was she the morning of his death? 

Jim listened to the responses while he monitored her heartbeat and breathing. 

Simon split his attention between Jim and the woman in the interrogation room. 

Reynolds answered Henri's questions without hesitation but with a lot of scorn and disdain. After twenty minutes Henri finished his questioning and told her she could go. 

Simon looked at Jim. "Well?" 

"She didn't do it. Her pulse was a little fast, and she didn't like the man, but she didn't kill him." 

Simon followed Jim back into the hall where they met Henri and Rafe. The younger men looked at the senior detective. 

"Well?" Henri finally asked, hands spread, brown eyes locked onto Ellison's blue ones. 

"Well, what? Didn't sound like she knew anything about it to me. How about to you?" Jim and Simon blocked the hallway, both smiling. 

"Couldn't you tell if she was lying?" Rafe asked. "I mean, you were listening, right?" 

Jim and Simon exchanged glances. Nobody had brought up Jim's enhanced senses in weeks. Because Jim refused to talk about the uproar with the press months ago and Simon remained stonily tight-lipped, everyone in Major Crime was left puzzling and speculating over Jim's supposed gifts. 

"I was listening to the questioning, Henri. Was I supposed to listen to anything else?" The detective and police captain left the two men standing in the hallway. 

Simon flopped down behind his desk. "Anymore suspects up your sleeve, Jim?" 

Jim paced slowly in front of the captain, hands pressed together, finger pressing against finger as if they were doing push-ups. 

"We've eliminated the obvious ones. I guess we'll start with the not so obvious ones." 

"What do I tell the Mayor?" 

"Tell her the suspect is not one of the children's parents. That should keep her off your back awhile longer." 

"Thanks, Jim." Simon growled. "That helps a lot." Jim went back to his desk and stared at the list of suspect names they had started with. There were more black lines drawn through names than there were names left unmarked. He picked up the phone and started punching in numbers. 

* * *

Blair looked up from the chicken breast he was skinning as Jim came into the loft, leather jacket draped over his shoulder, held by a crooked finger. 

"Evening, Jim. How'd it go this afternoon?" 

Jim hung up his jacket, then brushed by Sandburg, patting him on the shoulder as he opened the refrigerator and took out a bottled water. 

"We're back to square one. Every lead has been a dead end." He looked over Blair's shoulder, then snaked his arm around Blair's neck and offered Blair a sip of water from the bottle he held. "What are you making?" 

"Chicken Parmesan." Blair opened his mouth, and Jim poured a swallow of water down Blair's throat. Jim leaned against the sink and watched Blair dip the last chicken breast in egg, roll it in Italian bread crumbs before placing it in the baking dish with three others. The teacher slid the baking dish into the oven, then started chopping vegetables for a salad. 

The big cop inhaled the aroma from a pot of sauce bubbling on the stovetop. "Smells good. Do I have time for a shower?" 

Blair reached over his shoulder without looking, holding a piece of carrot. 

Jim nipped it from Blair's fingers and crunched happily. 

"Yeah, it'll take at least 45 minutes before the chicken is done. You shower while I run down the street and pick up a bottle of wine." 

"Sounds good." Jim headed for his bedroom, stealing another piece of carrot out of the salad before Blair could slap his hand. 

* * *

Jim sipped from his wineglass and sighed at his empty plate. Dinner had been devoured completely and now the empty dishes stared back at the two men. 

"I cooked." Blair stated, emptying the wine bottle into both of their glasses. 

"I know. I'm just so stuffed, I'm almost willing to leave the dishes until later." 

Blair pulled off his glasses, rubbed them on his sleeve and put them back on. "Who are you and where is the real James Ellison?" 

"Very funny, Chief." But Jim grinned and pushed away from the table. He picked up his plate and started to the kitchen. Blair took pity on his friend and started after him with his plate. 

"You wash, I'll dry." 

"Sounds like a plan." Jim started water in the sink and added soap, watching the bubbles rise. He slid the plates into the hot water and pulled on gloves. 

"I want to go back to the crime scene in the morning." Jim rinsed a plate under running water and handed it to Sandburg to dry. 

"How come?" 

"Maybe I missed something. Maybe I didn't look at it from the right perspective. Maybe we missed interviewing a neighbor who really did hear or see something." 

Blair waited for Jim to finish scrubbing the baking dish, lost in thought. "Are we looking for a clue, or inspiration?" 

"Inspiration, I think." 

"We've eliminated the obvious." Blair took the baking dish in the towel, started rubbing it dry. "Right?" 

"Right. Parents of the kids, close family friends and relatives, parolees." 

"So who's left?" 

Jim looked at his partner; eyes following the slender body as it stood on tiptoe to put away a dish. "Colleagues? Former employees? Jealous husband?" 

"Old girlfriend? Jilted lover?" Blair kept the list going as he nestled the baking dish in the stove drawer. 

Jim stopped wiping down the counter, frozen at Blair's statement. "It couldn't be that easy, could it, Chief? A lover's tryst gone wrong?" 

Blair hung up the towel. "Did he have a mistress? Were there any rumors about him and another woman?" 

"I don't know." He finished the counter, drained the dishwater and wiped down the sink before rinsing the sponge. Jim pulled off his gloves and draped them over the faucet. Then he grabbed the phone and punched Simon's number. 

"Simon, sorry to bother you at home. Did anyone ask the judge's wife if her husband was involved with anyone? You did?" Jim glanced at Blair as his partner handed him his half-empty wineglass. He nodded his thanks as he listened to Simon. 

Blair flopped down on the couch, picked up a book and opened it, flipping through until he found his bookmark. Jim paced around the living room as he listened, then finally mumbled thanks and rang off. 

"Dead end?" Blair asked, looking up from his book. 

Jim nodded. "Guess Simon really upset the wife when he asked that question." Jim looked at his roommate propped on the couch with his book. Blair looked like he planned to stay there for awhile. "Good idea," he mumbled as he sat his glass down. 

"What is?" Blair looked over his glasses as Jim charged up the stairs. 

Jim came back with the latest Tom Clancy novel and settled down on the other sofa. Blair smiled at his friend and went back to reading. 

* * *

Morning found Jim and Blair standing at the base of the tree and fence, looking up at the stripped limbs. All the leaves and several pieces of bark had been taken for forensics. 

"What are you looking at, Jim?" 

Jim shook his head. "I don't know." He studied the tree and fence a little longer, then hoisted himself up so he could see over the wood wall. He looked at the street and cul-de-sac on the other side, studied each house, and then dropped down. 

"Let's take a walk, Chief." The two men strolled down the street, around the end of the fence and into the next street. It was identical to the street they had just left, expensive houses, manicured lawns, and shady trees. High priced cars graced driveways and there was the occasional dog on a chain. Jim stared at the street, stepped back to the other side of the fence, studied the tree, and then came back. He pointed at the tree hanging over the fence and they headed for it. 

"Serena checked over here for tracks, oil stains, that sort of thing when her team was here. They didn't find anything." Blair reminded Jim. 

"I know. Rafe and H questioned all the neighbors who were home. Nobody heard or saw anything." 

Jim stood at the base of the fence, looked at the tree again, at the gravel under his feet, the cedar fence. "Chief, could you climb this, without help?" 

Blair looked at the six-foot wall, the curved tops. He studied the planks for possible footholds. He took off his jacket, gave it to Jim. He backed up, took a few running steps and leaped. His toes finally found purchase on a rough spot on the cedar. It took a few seconds, but he pulled himself the rest of the way up the fence and into the tree. 

"You mean like this?" Blair panted from his perch on the limb. He looked down at his larger partner. 

"Could you do it with a rifle slung across your back?" Jim looked up at the grinning tree climber. 

"Probably." 

A voice across the cul-de-sac interrupted them. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?" A portly man lumbered down his driveway. He kept yelling as he trotted across the street until he was closer to Ellison. "I've already called the cops!" he bellowed, then leaned on his knees, coughing, face red and sweating. 

Jim looked up at his partner and smiled. Blair remained where he was. Jim turned back to the neighbor. "We are the police." He pulled out his leather case with his badge and flipped it open. "Are you all right, Mr. -?" 

"Stellar. Tom Stellar." Stellar straightened up and eyed Jim's badge. 

"I'm sure you have a good reason for climbing a tree, Detective." 

"We were proving a theory," Blair called. 

Jim glanced up at his still grinning partner. "My partner is right, Mr. Stellar. I'm sure you know Judge Harris was killed the other morning." 

Stellar nodded, his color almost normal. 

"We were trying to prove if someone could climb into this tree with and rifle and not be noticed." 

A blue and white pulled into the street, came to a screeching halt in front of the two men. A large uniformed cop climbed out, sliding his nightstick into its loop on his belt. 

"Is there a problem?" The cop called as he strolled closer. His partner stayed on the other side of the car, standing inside the open door. 

"No problem." Jim recognized the uniformed cop as Mallory, the officer who'd been at the crime scene two days ago. Both men nodded to the other. "Mr. Stellar was being diligent." 

Mallory relaxed a fraction, and turned back to his car. "If you need any assistance, Detective Ellison, we're right around the corner." 

Ellison and Stellar watched the squad car make a U-turn and leave the street. 

"Jim, would you please give me a hand here?" Blair called from his perch. 

"Oh. Sorry, Chief." Jim went and stood under the limb. Blair slid down, dangled for a second, then let go, falling into Jim's steadying arms. Jim tapped him on the back. "Okay?" 

Blair nodded, brushed off his hands. 

Stellar looked at Sandburg, back to Ellison. "Would you please tell me what's going on?" 

"Mr. Stellar, you immediately noticed a trespasser on your street and took action. Would you say you would notice if anybody tried to climb that fence in the early morning?" 

Stellar dropped his head and shook it. "After the judge was killed one street over, I started opening my curtains in the morning. I'm usually up pretty early. I turn on the morning news, have my coffee, and read the newspaper." 

"And cigarette," Jim added with a slight smile. 

Stellar glared but nodded. "Until yesterday, those curtains never got opened. I figured if someone had been paying attention to what was happening on the street, we might have stopped it." 

"Did you hear the shot?" Blair asked. 

Stellar shook his head again. "I already talked to the other detectives." 

Jim looked around the street. Several other doors were open; a couple of people stood in one, a kid with a dog on a leash, in another. Nobody made a move to investigate. Jim shook his head. "Seems like you're the only neighbor willing to get involved if something appears wrong." 

Stellar followed Jim's scan of the circle. "Yeah, well, most of the people around here don't get involved in anything. Can't even have a neighborhood picnic. Everybody is always too busy." 

Jim pulled out a card, pressed it into Stellar's hand. "Thank you for your concern. If you think of anything, or hear anything, give me a call." They shook hands and Stellar started across the street. He looked back when Jim called his name. 

"Tom, if I were you, I'd drop the cigarettes and have that ticker checked on." Jim patted his own chest. "You didn't sound too good there for a little bit." 

Stellar looked at the tall detective and smaller longhaired companion, then nodded. 

Jim and Blair walked back down the street toward the old blue and white truck. "What was that about his heart, Jim?" 

"I could hear it, Chief. Sounded like it was fighting to pump every time, like all the pipes are clogged. He's in serious trouble if he doesn't do something." Jim shook his head. "It was the least I could do." 

Blair nodded in sympathy. "You'd be a great cardiologist, you know that? You could hear a heart in trouble without instruments. Think of the lives you could save." 

"Think of the ones I couldn't because they wouldn't listen to my warning." They rounded the corner where the truck was parked and Jim unlocked it. "There was something else I heard, Chief." 

Blair fastened his seat belt and looked over as Jim settled behind the wheel. "When?" 

"When the squad car showed up. I kinda scanned the homes in the circle, seeing if I could determine who might be watching and I picked up another heartbeat. It was racing, like it was really scared." 

"Could you tell which house?" Blair asked, almost bouncing in the seat. 

"No, too many and too far away. But someone definitely reacted to the police car." Jim cranked the truck, pulled into the street and then traffic. "I think our shooter was a neighbor." 

* * *

Jim and Blair walked into the bullpen and directly into Simon's office. Simon looked up from the paperwork he was doing and studied the pair of grim faces before him. 

"What have you found out?" 

Jim accepted the coffee Blair handed him with a slight smile. "Sandburg and I went back out to the crime scene this morning." 

"Jim is trying to turn me into a monkey, Simon. He's making me climb trees and jump." Blair good-naturedly grumbled as he fixed his own coffee. 

Simon growled at Sandburg. "Sit down, Blair, and let your partner fill me in." 

Blair sat down and buried his nose in his coffee cup with a sigh. 

"I think our shooter is a neighbor." Jim calmly announced. 

Simon took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair. "And how did you arrive at this conclusion?" 

While Jim explained their morning activities, Blair excused himself and found a city map to make a copy of the street they were just on. Then he logged on and printed out a list of all the homeowners on the circle. He returned to Simon's office as Jim finished and handed the printout to his partner. 

"That's an awful slim reason to base an investigation on, Jim." 

Ellison shrugged. "I'm open to suggestions." 

Simon looked at his best team. Nothing they had worked on yet had gotten them any closer to their killer. "Okay, check it out. But be quiet about it. 

You may have stumbled over someone who was a runaway or had a pile of parking tickets, not a killer." 

"It's possible, Simon." Jim acknowledged. "But we won't know until we check it out." 

Simon dismissed them and they returned to their desks. Jim ripped the list in two and handed Sandburg half. 

"Same search as before. Weight has got to be close, bleached blonde, maybe even a registered gun. Possible connection to the judge somewhere in the past." 

Blair nodded and sat down to go to work. 

Two hours later Blair leaned back in his chair and pulled off his glasses. He looked over at Jim and the detective immediately looked up. Two pair of blue eyes locked and one eyebrow flew up on Jim's face in question. 

"Found her." Blair said quietly, just barely above a whisper. 

Jim pushed away and came around to Blair's desk where they could both look at the computer screen. A newspaper article almost ten years old covered the screen. It showed a young woman holding a scoped rifle. Underneath the photo, the caption blazed 'Local college student places fifth in biathlon after surviving brutal assault.' Jim skimmed the article detailing how a young Carrie Alexander had placed fifth in a national competition six weeks after being brutally raped. When Blair was sure Jim had finished the article he switched screens to a wedding announcement five years later. Carrie Alexander and a Randy Everett of Cascade, Washington. Jim glanced at the list of homeowners; Randy and Carrie Everett. 

"Did you find the police report?" Jim asked his partner, one hand braced on Blair's shoulder as the young man scrolled through the screens. 

"Yeah." Blair clicked on a toolbar and another screen appeared, detailing an assault. The insert to that screen contained a trial transcript, Judge Harris presiding. Jim read through it, his hand over Blair's as he slid the cursor arrow around. Final verdict, not guilty. Jim didn't recognize the defendant's name. 

"You wouldn't. Ten years ago he was the son of a CEO of a failed banking association. At the time, the father would have had a lot of weight in this town." 

Jim went back to the police report, read it a little closer. "Date rape?" He looked at Sandburg. 

"Sounds like it to me." 

Jim dropped his head and shook it. He went back to his desk. "Print all that out, then let's go see Simon." "Already printing." 

Simon looked at the printouts, reading each one and shaking his head. He finally looked at Ellison and Sandburg. "When are you going to question her?" 

"She's at work right now. She's a physical therapist at one of the local children clinics. We thought we'd wait until she was at home." 

Simon nodded at Jim. He reached for his coffee mug. "Life can throw you some curveballs, can't it?" 

Blair spoke up. "What you're trying to say is this sucks, Simon." 

"Sandburg-" Simon cautioned, knowing the younger man was not above letting his emotions get the best of him. 

"Chief-" Jim added his own voice. He patted his partner's stomach. "Settle down." 

Blair glared at both of them. "I don't condone what she did, man. But I sure understand it. The judge who let her rapist off the hook goes easy on another one." 

"We don't convict them, Sandburg. The courts will - " 

"I know what the court will do, Simon. Innocent until proven guilty." 

"That's why we have laws, Chief. If everyone who has ever been wronged picked up a gun - " 

Blair held up his hands, stopping Jim in mid-statement. "I know why we have laws, Jim. But sometimes I really think the law of the jungle is more just." He slipped from his chair and headed for Simon's door. He paused when he opened it. "Did you read where she works? It's the long-term care center where the 12-year-old rape victim is being cared for. I bet she sees that little girl every day." Blair slammed the door behind him. 

Jim listened to the furious thundering of his partner's heartbeat as it moved out of the bullpen and into the breakroom. Coins clanked in the soda machine and a can 'ka-chunked' into the tray. Jim came back when Simon called his name. 

"Where is he?" 

"Break room, getting a juice." It'd almost taken an order from the Chief of Police for the soda machine to start stocking a fruit juice instead of all sugar-laden sodas. 

"Is he all right?" 

Jim nodded. "He's staying for a moment, his heart and breathing are settling down." 

"Does he ever complain about how you monitor him?" 

Jim smiled and cocked his head. "He just said 'tell Simon I'm not going off half-cocked'". Jim smiled at the black man behind the desk. "Guess that answers your question." 

Simon smiled a little. "Do you want a search warrant? I think I can justify it." He spread his hand over the printouts. 

"No, I want to talk to her first." Jim rubbed his hand over his face. 

"You know, Sandburg is right. If she ends up being the killer - " Jim's statement drifted off as Simon nodded. Their moment of silence was interrupted as Sandburg slipped back into Simon's office. 

"The Mayor just came out of the elevator," Blair warned Simon. The team exchanged glances. Jim pushed himself up and went to Blair at the door. "Simon, we're going out." 

"Out? You're going to leave me to face her alone again?" Simon came around his desk. "Guys?" He looked at them, almost pleading. 

"That's why you get paid the big bucks." Blair held the door open for Jim. 

Simon stood and watched them go. He saw Jim greet Her Honor with a handshake and wave her toward Simon's closed door. Then Blair waved to Simon as soon as they were past the woman and her aide, before disappearing into the hall. 

* * *

The blue and white truck stopped in the street in front of the expensive home. A new car was in the driveway, a fairly new SUV in front of it, next to the garage door. Blooming flower baskets decorated the deck and sidewalk; a couple of colorful banners fluttered from a small flagpole attached to the corner of the house. 

Blair looked at the house, then back at his partner. Jim was looking at the house. 

"I don't like this either, Chief." 

"I know, Jim. One part of me wants us to be wrong. The other part of me wants us to solve the case as quickly as possible." 

Jim opened the driver's door. "I know the feeling." He came around the front of the truck as Blair climbed out and they walked up the flower-bordered sidewalk and rang the doorbell. Blair sniffed a begonia as they waited for the footsteps from inside the house to approach the door. 

A middle-aged man opened the inner door, and looked at them through the storm door. He was trim, slender, with a pleasant face, a dark mustached to match his dark hair, dressed in khaki slacks and short sleeve polo shirt. 

"May I help you?" 

Jim showed his badge through the glass door. "I'm Detective Ellison, my partner, Blair Sandburg. Mr. Everett, we'd like to talk to your wife if she's available." 

Everett opened the door and motioned them in. "What is this all about?" Jim looked at the white carpet in the main room and the small sign on the entryway door, then heeled off his shoes. Blair followed suit. 

"Mrs. Everett wasn't available when our detective was talking to your neighbors. This concerns the shooting on the next street." Everett nodded. "Judge Harris. We heard about it on the news. I was out of town and Carrie was working the early shift at the hospital so neither one of us were home." 

"So your statement to Detective Brown said. But we still need to interview your wife." 

"She's in the kitchen. Come on in and I'll introduce you." He turned and led them through the family room and into an open kitchen and dining room area. The rooms were light and airy with tall windows to let in the evening sun. 

Carrie Everett was on the phone; the cordless instrument nestled between her shoulder and neck as she used both hands to squeeze lemons on a juicer. 

Jim's nose wrinkled at the citrus smell but his mouth watered at the remembered taste of homemade lemonade. 

She looked up at the strangers entering her home and hastily rang off. 

"Carrie, this is Detective Ellison and his partner, Blair Sandburg. They need to ask you some questions about the judge's murder." 

Carrie's face paled as she looked from her husband to the cop. 

Jim glanced at Blair and nodded fractionally. The racing heart beat was the same one from the morning. 

Carrie was about Sandburg's height, with blonde hair curled around a tan face and blue eyes. Her short sleeve tee shirt emphasized the strong muscles in her arms and the lemon didn't stand a chance against the strong hands twisting it on the juicer. 

"I would offer to shake hands, but I'm kinda into something here." She indicated the bag of lemons and the large thermos jug. "I make lemonade once a week for the clinic as a special treat for the kids." She indicated a couple of bar stools. "If you don't mind me working, ask away." 

Ellison dropped onto the indicated stool but Blair went around the counter. 

"Fresh lemonade. I haven't helped make that in years. Mind if I help?" He grabbed a couple of lemon out of the bag and started pressing and rolling them on the counter. He grinned at Jim, then picked up a knife and sliced a lemon in half. 

Carrie looked confused at her helper. "Sure, I mean, thanks." 

Jim shook his head. The patented Sandburg charm was at it again. 

"Mrs. Everett, your husband said you were at work the morning Judge Harris was shot." 

"Yes, I went in at 4 a.m. I was covering for Suzie, our morning therapist. I worked 4 to 2 that day." 

Blair handed her another half of a lemon. "That must be tough. 10 hour day that starts so early." 

Carrie shrugged and started squeezing another lemon. "You get two breaks and lunch. One around 6 or 7, another one around 10 or 11, depending on the patient scheduling. Three hours at a time is about all you can do, especially if you're lifting patients a lot." 

Jim made a few notes. Clever Sandburg, got her to admit when she would be on break without him asking. Jim met Blair's eyes for just a second, acknowledging the information his partner had secured from their suspect. 

"Is there a breakroom or a cafeteria in the clinic?" 

She nodded, pouring the juice into the large jug. "Have to be. But I wouldn't recommend the eggs." 

They all laughed at the slight joke. 

"Do you remember coming home that day?" Ellison made another note in his pad. 

"Randy was in Seattle that day. After I got off work, I spent the afternoon doing a few errands. Had my hair done, shopping, that sort of thing. Treated myself to dinner out. Randy got in about midnight, I think." She pointed to the bag of sugar and measuring cup. Blair handed her both items. 

Jim made a couple more notes. "Thank you for your time, Mr. and Mrs. Everett. Sorry to interrupt your evening." 

Blair rinsed his hands, dried them off on a convenient towel. "Hope the kids enjoy the lemonade." 

The men remained silent until they reached the truck, then looked at each other. 

"She did it, didn't she?" Blair asked softly. 

"Yeah." Jim started the truck and let it idle, hands tapping the steering wheel. "But what we have won't stand up in court, Chief. Let's go talk to the clinic." 

"You think she took the morning break, killed him, then went back to work. That's pretty cold, Jim." 

"Unless somebody can place here in the breakroom or the caf, it would be perfect. She's not on a normal schedule, she doesn't meet somebody everyday over her break. Who would miss her if she wasn't expected to be seen? Unless she made a commotion to make sure she was noticed, establishing an alibi." 

Blair nodded, following Jim's train of thought. "If she has a time card, has to punch in or out for breaks, that will tell us when she wouldn't be missed. 

Jim nodded. "Time us, Chief. How long would it take to get from here to St. Mary's Hospice?" 

"Got it." 

* * *

The long care facility was really a large house, divided into three floors; offices and kitchen on the first floor, bed-ridden patients on the second, physical therapy facilities and mobile patients on the third. St. Mary's only handled ten patients at a time, mostly young children recovering from cancer treatments or other long illnesses. The front yard contained large flowering shrubs behind a neat white fence and playground equipment was visible in the backyard. 

Jim looked at the neat house and back at his partner. "How long?" 

"Eighteen minutes." 

"Give it twenty. So a forty-minute round trip. She couldn't have done it on break time. She would have had to use her lunch break and really hustled." 

"If she got an hour for lunch." 

Both men entered the front rooms, which had been transformed, into a small but neat office and a tiny visitor waiting area. 

It took ten minutes for Jim to persuade the administrative staff to let him look at the time cards for the nursing staff, and another five for the detective to find the proof he needed for his theory. 

Jim thanked the young clerk, and then hustled Sandburg from the office, pulling his cellphone as he went. He punched the button programmed for Simon. 

"Simon, go bother the DA's office and get an arrest and search warrant. Carrie Everett, suspicion of murder, and authorization to search their home and vehicles for the gun. Meet me at their house. Yeah, we'll wait." He closed the phone. 

* * *

They pulled back into traffic and Jim looked at his watch. "10 p.m., Chief. Think they'll appreciate me banging on their door this late in the evening?" 

"No. And the DA won't appreciate Simon bothering him either. Couldn't wait until morning, could you, Jim?" 

"No, not really. If the Everetts have gotten suspicious, they would have all night to pack up and head for Canada. The border is only a few hours away." 

"I know, Jim. It just seems a shame to drop this on someone after they've gone to bed." 

"There is no good time to arrest someone for murder, Chief." 

* * *

They were sitting at the end of the street, the car dark except for the parking lights on when Simon pulled in behind them, with a squad car following him. Simon got out of his car and went to Jim's door as the detective opened it and stepped out. The police captain was an imposing figure in a dark suit with a darker trench style coat over top. He silently held up the warrant. 

"The lights are still on in the house so at least we won't be waking them up." Jim commented, his vision zooming up the street to the house, where light shined through closed curtains. 

"How do you want to handle this?" Simon murmured to Jim as the detective continued to watch the house. 

Jim nodded toward the uniform. "Wait until we signal before you come in. It might be helpful to have a little more backup while we search for the weapon." 

Simon nodded to the uniform in agreement. "Let's go." Jim climbed back into his truck, and the three vehicles caravaned up the circle and parked in front of the Everett home. 

Simon and Jim went to the door first with Blair behind his partner, while the uniform waited at the end of the driveway. Simon rang the doorbell and glanced at Jim, silently asking what the detective heard inside. 

Jim was saved the trouble of answering when the porch light came on and the door opened. 

Randy Everett stood inside the storm door, in sweatpants and tee shirt. He looked from the large black man he didn't know, to the not quite so imposing detective that he did. 

"Detective Ellison, is something wrong?" 

"Mr. Everett, this is Captain Simon Banks of the Major Crime Division." 

"Mr. Everett, may we come in please?" Simon was the picture of calm, trying very hard to be non-threatening, knowing how he must look to Everett. 

Randy Everett did not open the screen door. "Is something wrong, gentlemen?" 

Captain and Detective exchanged glances. Simon reached into a deep pocket and pulled out the warrant. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Everett, we have a warrant for your wife's arrest in connection with Judge Harris' murder." 

Everett looked at both men again and caught a glimpse of Blair standing behind Ellison. 

He didn't move for a long moment, then unlatched the screen door and pushed it open. He turned away, calling Carrie's name as the three men entered. Everett turned on a tall halogen light and flipped off the TV before facing Banks again. 

Captain Banks silently handed the man the crisply folded document and Everett looked at it without really seeing it. 

Carrie Everett came from the back of the house, tying a housecoat securely around her. She looked at the group in the living room and went to her husband. 

"Randy?" She touched him on the arm and he silently handed her the warrant. She read it, looked at her husband, than at the large policemen in her home. Her face lost what color it had and she dropped her head for a second, then raised it, staring at Jim. 

Jim could hear her rapid heartbeat, her struggle to take long breaths. She met his eyes, then Blair's, before finally meeting her husband's. 

"Let me get dressed," she whispered. 

Randy grabbed her hand as she moved to go past him. "Honey, what are you talking about? You can't go with them! This is outrageous! Tell them they have the wrong person!" 

"Randy, I love you." She touched his face with her other hand, then glanced at the police captain. "Be right back." She slipped her hand from her husband's. 

Randy watched her go, then turned back to the cops. "You've got the wrong woman. What makes you think she killed somebody? Carrie couldn't hurt a soul." 

"Jim, are you listening?" Blair murmured at his partner then placed his hand gently on Jim's back, grounding him so his hearing could spiral out and listen as the suspect opened and closed drawers and pulled on clothes. 

"Mr. Everett, I suggest you call your attorney and have him meet us at the station." Simon took the other warrant out of his pocket and passed it over. 

"This is a search warrant, authorizing us to search for a .30.30 rifle." 

"You won't find it here." Carrie said as she reappeared, in jeans, sweater and windbreaker. She paused, not sure as to who she should approach, then went to her husband's side. "I'm sorry, Randy." She kissed him. "I love you so much. I'm sorry you had to find out." She looked back at the detective. 

Jim stepped forward, started reciting Carrie's rights as he gently slipped on a pair of handcuffs, pinning her arms behind her. The whole time Jim's voice droned on, husband and wife kept their eyes locked on each other. 

Simon cleared his throat, asserting his presence in the arrest. "Sandburg, tell that uniform to come in here. Jim, stay and search the house. Sandburg and I will take her down to the station. 

Jim nodded and stepped back, letting Simon take her arm and start leading her from the house. 

Randy stopped them at the door. "Carrie, please, you didn't do this, did you? I mean, I know you hated the man, but not enough to do this, right?" 

Carrie started to speak and Simon stopped her. "Mrs. Everett, you should have an attorney present. Anything I hear could hurt you in court." 

Carrie shook her head. "It's okay. Randy, call my mother. Tell her what happened, she'll know what to do." 

Simon led her out, meeting Sandburg and the patrolman on the sidewalk. Simon motioned for Blair to stay with him and together they put the cuffed woman in the car. 

Carrie remained silent for several minutes as they headed for the station. She leaned forward toward the two men in the front seat. "How'd you figure it out?" 

Sandburg glanced at Simon and when the captain nodded, he looked over his shoulder. "Time cards." 

Carrie flopped back against the seat. "Shit. Didn't think." She watched the street lights fly by. "You know, ten years is a long time to carry so much hate around. I'm sorry I killed him, but I'm not sorry he's dead. There are five sets of parents agreeing with me tonight. The judge who let their child's torturer off so lightly will never do it again." 

"The judge wasn't the rapist, Mrs. Everett." Simon looked at the woman in the rearview mirror. 

Carrie leaned back and looked out the window. "He might as well have been," she whispered to the quiet streets. 

* * *

Blair stumbled out of his bedroom, wiping his eyes and squinting at the early morning light. Jim was silhouetted against the balcony doors. The sentinel leaned against the rails with a cup of coffee in hand, his robe draped and tied around him. 

Blair grabbed his own coffee and joined his partner. Neither man spoke for a long time, then Blair nudged his partner with an elbow. 

"Penny for them." 

"Just thinking of the Everetts. He never knew his wife had been raped or what she'd been carrying around for ten years. If she'd shared that secret with her husband, he might have been able to help her, or gotten her help." 

"So you're thinking communication is a good thing in a partnership?" 

Jim turned to Blair, touched their mugs together. "Just remind me once in awhile, okay partner?" 

"Count on it." 

The partners turned and looked over the city as the morning sun gleamed across the bay. 

* * *

End

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